


First and Foremost, Dalish

by ashenRenegade



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Bonding, Cullen needs to keep his mouth shut, Dalish Elves, Gen, Hinterlands (Dragon Age), Kind solas, Lavellan goes rock-climbing!, MINOR Inquisitor/Cullen, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Nobles are a pain in the ass, The Dalish are hardy, Understanding, no but seriously
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-22
Updated: 2018-12-22
Packaged: 2019-09-24 16:03:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17103698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashenRenegade/pseuds/ashenRenegade
Summary: Inquisitor Lavellan has a nice time in the Hinterlands gathering herbs and getting just a little stressed. Then proceeds to be a very bad diplomat. Set during early DA:I where we're still in Haven and the Hinterlands is as far as the team can go. Cullen is still just as terrible at dealing with pretty women.This is the first piece I'll have ever submitted to AO3, so I hope you like it! ;_; Feedback would be cool!





	First and Foremost, Dalish

Adhlea Lavellan was two things above all else; Dalish and a mage. Her heritage gifted her with the ability to traverse terrain like a mountain goat, as her companions had witnessed on more than one occasion. Her talent had given her powers that caused many a man to soil himself upon witnessing them, which her companions had also witnessed on more than one occasion. In her mind, these were all of her gifts. In her mind, she was not the chosen of any god, hers or any humans, and her involvement had been nothing more than an accident. The other two aspects of her being, however, she was more than happy to parade around. Quite often, she did.

*************************

“There! I see some!”

Cassandra gestured towards a small outcropping directly above them where a small cluster of Crystal Grace perched, it’s powder blue petals and magenta stamen making the rare plant unmistakable. It fluttered in the gentle Hinterland breeze, taunting them. The herbalist currently residing in Redcliffe Village had asked them to bring her two bushels of the stuff alongside some spindleweed and this was the final bushel they needed. If they managed this, the herbalist could prove invaluable in providing aid to the refugees at the Inquisitions outpost in the Hinterlands, but reaching it would be...Problematic. Cassandra approached the sheer rock face and growled as she found no real area for purchase, looking to Solas for suggestions. The elf shrugged as he met her gaze, looking up at the elusive plant.  
“Don’t look at me, Seeker,” he intoned. “Some mages can shapeshift and could become a falcon. I cannot,”  
“And I wouldn’t suggest asking the rebels, personally,” Varric chimed in as he brushed some dried dirt from Bianca, eyes fixed on the swaying flower.  
Adhlea smiled and gently propped her staff up against a nearby embankment, stretching her arms and scanning the supposedly sheer rock face. Cassandra just hadn’t looked hard enough. She kicked off her boots, tongue poking out of her upper lip in concentration as she saw a slight indentation here, a stone jutting out there. This would be easy enough.  
“Then we keep looking or tell the herbalist that this is a fools err-- AH!”  
Cassandra yelled in surprise as Adhlea took off at a sprint from behind her companions, launching herself up with surprising dexterity as her nimble fingers found a slight indentation in the stone. Her bare feet found purchase amongst the stone and she shimmied up the face with agility that bordered on catlike. She heard Varric laugh from below as she swung herself sideways before latching onto the edge of the outcropping, heaving her upper body onto the ledge with a grunt. One arm swung out to pluck the delicate flowers from their stems while her nose twitched at the overpowering but pleasantly sweet scent they gave off. Fearing she would crush them on her descent, she let them fall to the ground at Cassandra’s feet. Once she was confident that the Seeker had them safely in her grasp, she merely let go and allowed herself to fall. The impact of her fall shook her hair free of her ponytail and caused her leg to cramp slightly but it was the fastest way down. Once she had located where the ribbon had fallen, she fixed her rust-coloured hair, allowing the ponytail to graze the exposed skin between her shoulder blades where the material of the too-big robes she’d procured from one of the rebel mages drooped.  
“Maker, must you do that without telling me first?” Cassandra groaned.  
“But had I done that, Cassandra, you would have told me not to bother,” Adhlea grinned wickedly before slipping her boots back on and lacing them up.  
“Besides, it is not often the Dalish would heed the advice of anyone else,” Solas chuckled. “Their tenacity and confidence in their own convictions are at least partially to thank for their infamy,”  
“Add a mages unpredictability into that,” Varric added. “And you get--”  
“Me!” Adhlea finished with a flourish, citrine eyes glittering in the waning sunlight. “But regardless, we have what we need. Let’s get back to our healer before it gets too late. After that, I believe our business in the Hinterlands is all but concluded. Thankfully,”  
The party gave a collective sigh of relief as they retraced their steps back to Redcliffe Village, Adhlea’s scuffed heels and metatarsals rubbing uncomfortably against the rough cotton socks she’d stuffed them into. 

Solas sidled up to Adhlea as he emerged from the inn the next morning, finding her awake even before him. She sat on the ledge just outside of the inn, legs swinging idly as she watched the sun peer out from behind the mountains in the distance.  
“You’re up early, _da’len _,” he noted as he sat down beside her.__  
“Sleep eluded me, _hahren _,” she admitted. “I meditated for a time but I wanted to watch the sun rise. We don’t get to sit and just watch the world wake up very often,”__  
“An unfortunate side effect of constantly having something to do,” Solas agreed. “But it is nice to appreciate the world in its splendor. Come, we should get the mounts ready for when Cassandra and Varric are ready,”  
He helped her up and the two idly wandered to where the four horses were tied; a gift from Dennet. Between the two of them, tacking up the horses took mere minutes. The mounts were well-mannered and cooperative, which helped. Solas felt his weary heart warm somewhat when the one Adhlea was tending to burred softly and pushed his nose into her gentle palm.  
“I’ve yet to see one of your people that doesn’t have a way with beasts,” he chuckled softly.  
“Depends on the beast,” she shot back with a grin. “I’m sure the bears and wolves would disagree,”  
Solas laughed then, her joke catching him off-guard.  
“True enough, Herald. I suppose I meant more...Herbivorous beasts,”  
“Adhlea,” she corrected him.  
“Hm?”  
“Call me by my name, Solas. Adhlea. I don’t like the humans calling me a ‘Herald’. It makes it sound like I’m a messenger of their Andraste. I would prefer for you to know me as I am, not who they wish me to be,”  
Her eyes met his, and he saw a woman who was desperately out of her depth. Her too-old soul called to his ancient one and his expression softened in pity. The two had become friends quickly - her curiosity and desire to learn causing him to share many a story around the campfire with her - and seeing his friend ache so was incredibly unpleasant. It was much more visceral seeing a mortal in such distress. Spirits had so much more time to explore their feelings, and much less banal problems to distract them.  
“I apologise, Adhlea,”  
“That’s better,”  
Her smile did something to assuage his worry over her for now, but buried within her was a frightened woman with the weight of the literal world on her shoulders. He made a note to check in with her more often. While this journey was only the beginning for him, it was everything for her. It was the least he could do.

_____ _

****************************

“Forgive me, Lady Josephine, but the Herald has returned,”  
The messenger bowed as he entered Josephine’s office where she sat with Commander Cullen, interrupting their spirited argument about the treatment of nobles who insisted on meeting Andraste’s chosen. They gave each other the same look, one borne of exhaustion and compromise, and stood from their chairs. As they entered the courtyard, they were met with Adhlea making her way up the steps. She looked no worse for wear, as always, and her fair cheeks were rosy with exertion as she met them at the top of the steps. She smiled brilliantly despite her clear physical exhaustion, and brushed a flyaway strand of hair behind her ear.  
“Good afternoon, Lady Montilyet, Commander,” she greeted them both with a dip of her head. “Come to welcome me home?”  
“In a manner of speaking,” Josephine smiled in return, noting the smear of dirt on the Herald’s left cheekbone. “The commander and I were hoping you would settle a debate for us,”  
“Already? Creators, but I’ve only just got back!” Adhlea huffed. “Can it not wait until I at least bathe and get myself a change of clothes?”  
“It would be preferable to deal with it now so I can send a clear response,” Josephine replied apologetically. “It does not require much input from you at all, Lady Lavellan,”  
Cullen noted the weariness that consumed Adhlea for but a second before that same mask of pleasant indifference came over it, confirming his suspicions. He knew what exhaustion looked like on his recruits and it wasn’t difficult to see it on the face of the Herald. The three returned to Josephine’s office where Cullen elected to stand, gesturing for the Herald to take the seat he had been previously occupying. She accepted the offer gratefully, flashing him a thankful smile that made a nervous heat pool in his belly. Maker, she did look lovely when she smiled. Even with that smudge on her cheek.  
“Several nobles in Ferelden have written to us asking to meet the Herald of Andraste,” Josephine began, gesturing to the slew of letters covering her desk. “They have denied receiving letters from you or having an envoy meet them in your stead. Some have become rather...Persistent. It is mostly for the sake of posturing; to say they have met you while other teryns or banns have not, but it has become a headache. The commander and I have come to the conclusion that this is not our decision to make,”  
Adhlea was silent for a long moment, curious eyes scanning over the pages before her. Most of them were the same thing regardless of the varying vocabulary and flourish with which they were penned.

‘I want to meet the Herald and I’m going to throw the biggest tantrum in the world if I don’t.’

Well, how exactly was that supposed to be her problem? She cocked her head curiously and raised her gaze to Josephine, her ornery attitude dissolving somewhat at the hopeful look on her face.  
“Josephine, can we not just tell them to shove their demands up their backside? It’s not like I don’t have enough to do as it is, and you know full well that they would never want to meet one of my people under any other circumstance. That feeling is usually mutual, and in my case it still is. I have no real desire to be cooped up in some old farts castle listening to them talk about wine and money, or whatever those idiots talk about,” she pleaded, hearing Cullen give an affirmative grunt from somewhere behind her.  
“I agree with the Herald,” he sighed. “These people will only demand more if we acquiesce to their whims right out the gate. None of these names are of a high enough standing that we risk losing any real support and there’s still the matter of the Breach to take care of. I say we tell them to come here if they’re so desperate to meet her,”  
There was a sudden glimmer in Josephine’s eyes that made Adhlea’s heart sink.  
“That...Is not the worst idea, Commander,” she tapped the dry tip of her quill to her lower lip. “That would weed out the people who don’t want to make the effort, but would provide them with an open invitation to meet the Herald if they wanted to. Yes, that could work,”  
“Please don’t,” Adhlea whined as she let her head loll back. “If they turn up they’re going to demand every ounce of my free time, and I don’t exactly have much as it is,”  
Josephine frowned.  
“Herald, they look to you as a leader of the Inquisition. To have them visit would be common--”  
“Lady Montilyet, you forget that before this my biggest responsibility was being the First to my clans Keeper,” Lavellan sharply interjected. “It was not worrying about the opinion of a handful of unimportant layabouts, nor was it about running errands for the entirety of Ferelden. Somehow, I have ended up doing both. I have been accommodating to anyone and everyone that has approached me and it has cost me an excruciating amount of time and patience. I will not let a _dahn'direlan _waste more of my time,”__  
The outburst was met with silence. Cullen stared at the usually pleasant, mind-mannered woman with an odd mix of trepidation and respect. She had not done what many had expected of her and spoke ill of humans as a whole, but she had stood firm in her convictions when it came to them expecting her to bend over backwards for their demands. Certain individuals expectations of Elves never seemed to change, no matter their position. Josephine paused, momentarily looking guilt-stricken, and cleared her throat.  
“ _Ir abelas _, Herald,” Josephine finally responded in butchered Elvhen. “I had not considered how this would affect you. I did not mean to offend. I will write to the nobles in question and state that you have no interest in seeing them, but perhaps at a later date?”__  
Adhlea recognized the diplomat’s attempt at a compromise. The woman was quickly becoming a friend of hers. She did not want to cause her any more stress just as she herself did not want to endure any more.  
“ _Ma nuvenin _, Josephine,” she relented. “A later date. But not until we deal with the most pressing issue. After that, if they still have need of a Herald, I will see what I can do,”__  
That seemed to sate Josephine as her features lost some of their severity and she gave Adhlea a grateful smile. That was invitation enough for her to rise from her chair.  
“Now, if that’s settled, I would very much like to see about scrounging up some hot water for a bath,” she sighed. “Creators, I must have pulled something on the trip home,”  
She winced and Cullen pushed himself off the wall he had been leaning against to offer an arm.  
“Do you need assistance, Herald?” he asked, his lips pulling into a worried frown. “I wasn’t aware you’d injured yourself,”  
“That’s kind of you, Commander, but I’m fine,” Adhlea gave his arm a gentle pat. “A pulled muscle is nothing some bedrest and a soak won’t fix. I appreciate the offer nonetheless,”  
She bowed to both him and Josephine before taking her leave and as she passed him, Cullen got the faintest scent that removed him from Josephine’s office completely. She smelled of pine, dirt, and firewood. There was a lingering sweetness from the Crystal Grace that had permeated her clothes and her hair. He could picture the wilds of the hills where she’d been wandering and his nose wrinkled slightly at the slight scent of burnt wood that came afterwards, caused by the singes inflicted upon the end of her staff after one too many castings of Flashfire. She had the scent of nature in its purest form. It was a magic all of its own. He wondered for a fleeting moment if that was something that was uniquely hers. A part of him really, really wanted to find out. Shaking himself from his reverie, he too bid Josephine farewell and took his leave, shutting the door behind him. He saw her at the doors of the Chantry with Mother Giselle, all smiles and courtesy and respect. Her clan had been nothing but pleasant as well. Cullen made a mental note to correct more people about their opinions of the Dalish from now on. If the Herald and her family were anything to go by, they had a lot to teach the humans that insisted they were savages. He made another mental note afterwards to ask Josephine to help him learn some Elvhen. He doubted it sounded as nice spilling from his clumsy lips but anything to make Adhlea feel more at home was worth the effort. She had done her best to meet them all in the middle. It was time someone began to do the same for her.

**Author's Note:**

> Elvhen Translations courtesy of Project Elvhen here on AO3!
> 
> Da'len = Child  
> Hahren = Elder  
> Dahn'direlan = Moron  
> Ir Abelas = I am sorry  
> Ma Nuvenin = As you wish


End file.
